Sonata on a Rainy Day
by Minchuks
Summary: All Roderich wanted was to play his piano in peace, but how can one do that if there's a bored Gilbert roaming about and demanding attention?


Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz, not me.

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Roderich took a sip from his tea and observed the view outside the large windows that nearly covered the whole wall, taking a small midday break from writing his newest composition. It had been raining for three days straight, without a single sign that it would clear up anytime soon, and he had grown to be a bit irritated by it.

He wasn't much of an outdoor person who cared about the weather, but he loved it when sunlight filled his piano room, and its rays reflected off the polished surface of his beloved piano, filling him with delight and inspiration to compose grand symphonies that he most often wrote, however, this was the perfect time to write something different.

Setting the cup down, he returned to his piano, sat on the slightly worn down seat, and reviewed his work with a pencil in his hand.

 _Sonata No.4, Mvt. No.1_ , the words at the top of the first page said. Roderich still hadn't decided what to call the piece. The marks that stood for notes were quite messy, jotted down hastily in the middle of playing, and almost unintelligible, but after so many years, he had learned to read the scribbles.

It was quite distinct from his other works. It wasn't extravagant in any way, it was much simpler and calmer, like the rain itself, but that didn't mean he liked the piece any less.

He liked all music, especially classical, and he loved playing it most of all. He felt that he could hear the composers' emotion and thoughts that they had put into every single piece he heard and played, and each was unique from the others. He had always found the passion driving the works forward awe-inspiring. No other music could ever do that, further proven by the fact that this music still sounded beautiful centuries after their creation, and he enjoyed recreating that.

He read the sheet once more, took a deep breath, and began playing, every note echoing on the walls of the spacious room and coming together in a beautiful melody. It was always a sacred moment, one in which he could let go of all his worries in the world.

However, bad weather has more consequences than creating music.

"Roddy, I'm bored!" A sharp dissonance rang in Roderich's ears as he was interrupted by none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt. The platinum haired male landed on one of the upholstered chairs with a loud thud, making the teacup clink against its saucer and causing Roderich to become even more annoyed.

"Then go find something to do, and don't break my furniture, please." Unlike himself, who had found the circumstances somewhat enjoyable, Gilbert didn't share his opinion at all. And, unluckily for Roderich, he had become Gilbert's target for endless bothering in his quest to find something to do.

"But there is literally nothing to do in your house! There's nothing to clean, nothing awesome to read, because all your books are about old, dead guys who wrote music or whatever, and there's nothing awesome to write about, either. Seriously, how do you even manage to sit on your butt all day and do something as un-awesome as playing that piano of yours?"

Roderich didn't respond to that. He knew that the Prussian had no chance of understanding the things he loved.

"Can you, at the very least, allow me to play in peace?" Roderich asked, even though he knew what Gilbert's answer was going to be, in one form or another.

The Austrian could swear to have heard a chuckle as Gilbert leisurely strolled over to his piano. "That's not exactly why I came here," he said, swiping the sheet music away from its stand.

"Give that back to me this instant!" Roderich exclaimed. It's not that the Prussian cared about whatever was written on that paper, though he did glance at it out of curiosity, but all he really wanted was to get a reaction from Roderich, which he did. Rather effectively, at that.

And that was more than enough encouragement for Gilbert to mess with the Austrian further. "Roddy, perhaps you could try to make yourself less un-awesome and play something for me?" he said, smirking.

Roderich narrowed his eyes in suspicion and irritation, but, for some strange reason that he couldn't begin to fathom, he decided to fulfill his request.

"Fine, if that'll make you shut up, but you need to give me those sheets back."

Gilbert grinned with amusement as he set the paper on its stand, and leaned on the piano hard enough to make it creak, in turn making Roderich cringe.

Nevertheless, he played the song, tuning out all his distractions. He tried to ignore Gilbert's presence there, especially the fact that he was actually doing something for him, let alone playing music for him, and tried to lose himself in the beautiful melody the piano created.

Because of that, he didn't notice Gilbert watching him, or more like intensely staring without even realizing it, observing every detail of the Austrian. Sure, the music was pretty, calming and strangely nostalgic, but what he found more interesting was the way his almost dainty fingers flew across the keys, how that one odd curl of his swayed with the smallest movement, the determination, yet calmness in his violet eyes, and, what fascinated the Prussian the most - Roderich's lips curving into a delicate smile, which, knowing how rarely the Austrian smiled, he was _not_ going to let himself miss.

As Roderich played the last chord, he finally looked up and faced Gilbert. "There you go. I hope you're happy," he said sharply.

Gilbert chuckled a bit. "Roddy, I told you, that's not all that I wanted."

Roderich rose from his chair, trying to keep himself collected. "If you're going to be like that, then leave." But his words fell on deaf ears as Gilbert started inching towards him, and he found himself instinctually backing away from him.

The Austrian swallowed hard when his back hit the wall, and Gilbert wasted no time in getting far too close for comfort. He tried to grab the Prussian's wrist to stop him, but the other's reflexes were faster, and Roderich found himself pinned in seconds, Gilbert pressing up against him.

"Make me."

Roderich wanted to resist him, even if it was purely out of spite for the guy, however, there was something about the devilish glint in Gilbert's scarlet eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

Gilbert felt the resistance weaken, and watched Roderich as his face became flushed with a light pink. The Prussian let go the grasp he had on the other's wrist, before gently cupping his face and ever so slightly brushing his fingertip across the little mark under Roderich's lip, making the Austrian tense up and let out a strained sigh.

Of course, he thought it was weird when he had first discovered what _that_ could do to Roderich, but having the endlessly stubborn man become a flushed, aroused mess of a person in his hands... needless to say, Gilbert really, really enjoyed that.

He stroked the mark again, harder this time, earning himself a drawn out moan, though he could hear that Roderich was still trying to restrain himself, but the shudder he felt gave him away.

 _Damn him_ , Roderich thought, as coherently as he was able to at the moment. He felt far too hot, and he hated that it was Gilbert, the arrogant, annoying guy he'd resented for centuries, doing this to him. Yet it felt so good, and he couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to.

Barely a moment later, Gilbert felt a hand grabbing the back of his head, jerking him forward to meet a soft and eager pair of lips. He was shortly taken aback by the sudden attack, but quickly regained himself and pushed back with equal hunger, running his tongue across Roderich's bottom lip, asking for permission to enter.

And the Austrian gave it to him and let him in, holding on to his arm tight enough to cause pain, his heart racing, demanding more. A hundred different emotions were driving him, but none of them were close to happiness or even content. What he felt was determination; determination to beat Gilbert at his stupid game and get back at him for the centuries he had to deal with him.

Gilbert let his hand roam about, tracing out the veins on Roderich's neck, moving downwards to his chest and undoing the buttons of his coat. Just as he loosened the last button, the Austrian bit at the other's lip, making him groan quietly. But instead of deterring him, which he thought would work for some strange reason, it only added to the heat, with Gilbert attempting to get rid of the coat as best as he could, but it remained hanging at his elbows.

Reluctantly, Gilbert broke away from the other, both panting heavily, and what he saw was... perfect. The disheveled clothes, hazy violet eyes, flushed face, and composure blown away, he knew that he was responsible for it, and it made him smirk in triumph.

"Thanks," he said slyly. "We should do this more often, shouldn't we?"

Roderich was too stunned to answer, and merely watched the Prussian readjust his collar, shoot a barely noticeable wink at him, and quietly walk out of his piano room.

Immediately, he rushed to the window and cracked it open, trying to cool himself down, without caring a single bit about the rain, even though he knew it was pointless.

 _And damn him for being so good at this._

He sighed, slipping his coat back on properly, and tried to figure out what had just happened. But he couldn't. Or, more likely, he just didn't want to. All he knew was that he was going to get even with him for that, and he was not going to go down without a fight.

Besides, he was, quite literally, asking for it.


End file.
